03 02AU The Shakespeare Code
by NewDrWhoFan
Summary: It's "The Shakespeare Code" with Rose... 10Rose.
1. Brave New World

Series 3 AU with Rose! This is a sequel to my stories, "The Girl in the Stalking Spaceship", "Age of Bronze", "Lantern Extinguished", "Gravity Schmavity", "Love and Monsters", "Show Her, Tell Her", "Ghost of a Chance", "Doomsday Averted", "Runaway Bride", and "The Smiths and Miss Jones".

This is NOT a complete rewrite, but meant for those who want to re-watch the episode--with Rose.

This is as yet un-beta'd. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Surprise, surprise, I don't own Doctor Who or Harry Potter. Nor do I get anything from writing these stories--except wonderful, constructive reviews! Wink, wink; nudge, nudge ;)

--

Let me just say, you're lucky to be getting this chapter today. After the series 4 finale, I've got _way_ too many plot bunnies hopping through my brain!

--

Chapter 1, Brave New World

Rose watched as the Doctor danced around the console, dodging Martha and sending occasional commands Rose's way.

Martha was holding on for dear life, but marveling aloud at the TARDIS. "But _how_ do you travel in time?" Martha asked. "What makes it go?"

"Oh, let's take the fun and mystery out of everything," the Doctor replied sarcastically, holding his foot on one button, stretching to press another with his elbow, and wiggling his finger at Rose, telling her to release the switch she'd thrown a moment ago. "Martha, you don't wanna know. It just does." He threw a lever. "Hold on tight!"

The TARDIS jerked to a halt, knocking Martha onto the floor, completely dislodging the Doctor from the console, and throwing Rose forward over the controls. She just barely kept herself from pressing any dangerous buttons.

"Blimey!" exclaimed Martha, climbing to her feet. "Do you have to pass a test to fly this thing?"

"Yeah," Rose told her, laughing as she pushed herself upright, "and he failed it!" she added, smiling brightly at the Doctor.

"Now, make the most of it," he replied with a wink towards Rose, shrugging into his coat and tossing Martha's jacket to her. "We promised you one trip, and one trip only," he said, striding to the doors. "Outside this door . . . brave new world."

"Where are we?" Martha asked.

Rose didn't know either, but she'd learned to stop asking. No point in getting your hopes up, until you go out there and see when and where you've actually landed.

"Take a look," The Doctor told her, opening the doors. "After you."

Rose smiled, watching Martha's first, tentative steps, remembering making footprints in the snow, so long ago. She glanced up at the Doctor to see him grinning at her, and she bet he was thinking the same thing. She squeezed his hand, and they followed after Martha.

"Oh, you are kiddin' me," Martha was saying, standing just outside the TARDIS. "You are _so_ kiddin' me. Oh, my God! We did it. We travelled in time." She turned back to them. "Where are we? No, sorry. I gotta get used to this, whole new language. When are we?"

A window opened above them, and the Doctor reached out to pull Martha back towards the TARDIS.

"Mind the loo!" a man shouted from above, as he emptied the contents of a bucket onto the street below.

"Nice," said Rose.

"Somewhere before the invention of the toilet," the Doctor said in answer to Martha's question. "Sorry about that."

"I've seen worse," Martha said, excited and dismissing it easily. "I've worked the late night shift at A&E."

Rose patted her on the shoulder. "Looks like you'll get along just fine, then," she told her, as she and the Doctor began moving down the street. "That almost qualifies for the top ten most disgustin' things I've witnessed with him," she added, elbowing the Doctor.

"But are we safe?" Martha asked, walking next to Rose. "I mean, can we move around and stuff?"

"Of course we can," answered the Doctor. "Why do you ask?"

"It's like in the films," she explained. "You step on a butterfly, you change the future of the human race."

"Well, tell you what then, don't step on any butterflies," he answered. Then, looking across Rose at Martha, "What have butterflies ever done to you?"

She and Rose both laughed a bit at that.

"What if, I dunno," Martha went on, "what if I kill my grandfather?"

"You planning to?" the Doctor asked, lightly.

"No," Martha answered.

"Well, then," said the Doctor, as if that settled things.

So many questions, thought Rose. Things she had taken for granted, just running off, hand-in-hand with the Doctor--until she'd learned the hard way to take this stuff seriously.

"This is London," said Martha, amazed as she looked around at the street.

"I think so," the Doctor said, "right about 1599."

"Oh, but hold on. Am I alright?" Martha asked, halting them with a hand on Rose's arm. "I'm not gonna get carted off as a slave, am I?"

"No," said Rose, but looked questioningly at the Doctor. "Right?"

"Why would they do that?" asked the Doctor.

"Not exactly white, in case you haven't noticed," Martha answered.

"I'm not even human," the Doctor replied with a shrug, continuing down the street. "Just walk about like you own the place. Works for me. Besides, you'd be surprised. Elizabethan England? Not so different from your time. Look over there." Rose followed his finger to a man shoveling manure. "They've got recycling," he said. And as they passed a couple of men conversing by a water barrel, "Water cooler moment."

They passed a preacher announcing, ". . . And the world will be consumed by flame!"

"Global warming," the Doctor continued his list, then, "oh, yes, and entertainment! Popular entertainment for the masses," he said, swinging Rose's hand. "If I'm right," he said, looking around, "we're just down the river by Southwark right next to . . ." he pulled Rose along around a corner, Martha following close behind, "oh, yes, the Globe Theatre!" he exclaimed, the distinctive building now in plain view. "Brand new, just opened. Through, strictly speaking, it's not a globe," he added, "it's a tetradecagon—14 sides—containing . . . the man himself."

"Whoa, you don't mean--" Martha began.

"Shakespeare?" Rose asked. "Really, Shakespeare?"

"Oh, yes," the Doctor answered, grinning. He held out his free arm to Martha. "Ladies, would you accompany me to the theatre?"

"Yes, I will," answered Martha, linking her arm with his.

"Absolutely," said Rose, letting go of his hand to mirror Martha's grasp.

"When you get home," the Doctor said to Martha, "you can tell everyone you've seen Shakespeare."

"Then," she replied, "I could get sectioned!"

**--**

"That," said Rose, applauding at the conclusion of the play, "was the first time I actually, totally followed one of Shakespeare's plays! The TARDIS wasn't translatin' was she?"

"Nope," he answered. "It's just that modern readers, meaning from your time, don't appreciate that they were written specifically for audiences like this. You've gotta have the crowd clamoring at the foot of the stage to understand the interaction."

"It's amazing!" said Martha, "Just amazing. It's worth putting up with the smell!"

"Just about," answered Rose, laughing.

Martha pointed up at the players on stage. "And those are men dressed as women, yeah?"

"London never changes," said the Doctor.

"Where's Shakespeare?" Martha asked. "I wanna see Shakespeare. Author! Author!" she chanted. Rose joined in, fists raised as they called out. Martha asked, "Do people shout that? Do they shout 'Author'?"

Rose stopped along with her, but a man behind them immediately picked up the chant. "Well, they do now," she answered Martha with a smile.

As if in answer to their call, Shakespeare himself appeared on stage, bowing and blowing kisses to the audience.

"He's a bit different from his portraits," said Martha.

"A bit less bald," said Rose

"Genius," said the Doctor, applauding in earnest now. "He's a genius—_the_ genius." Present company excluded? wondered Rose. "The most human Human that's ever been." Ah, she thought, typical--genius _for a human_. "Now we're gonna hear him speak," the Doctor continued, in eager expectation. "Always, he chooses the best words. New, beautiful, brilliant words."

"Aw, shut your big fat mouths!" Shakespeare shouted, to the crowd's amusement.

"Oh, well," said the Doctor, obviously disappointed.

"You should never meet your heroes," Martha told him.

"You have excellent taste! I'll give you that," Shakespeare continued. "Oh, that's a wig!" he said, pointing out a man in the audience. "I know what you're all saying," he went on, "_Loves Labours Lost_, that's a funny ending, isn't it? It just stops! Will the boys get the girls? Well, don't get your hose in a tangle, you'll find out soon. Yeah, yeah. All in good time. You don't rush a genius," he said, bowing.

Suddenly, he jerked upright.

"When?" he asked. "Tomorrow night!" he declared, to the delight of the audience. "The premiere of my brand new play. A sequel, no less, and I call it _Loves Labours Won_!"

**--**

As they followed the crowds out into the street, Rose said, "Well, that was weird, that bit at the end."

"I'm not an expert," added Martha, "but I've never heard of _Loves Labours Won."_

"Exactly—the lost play," the Doctor answered, deep in thought. "It doesn't exist—only in rumors. It's mentioned in lists of his plays, but never ever turns up. No one knows why."

"Have you got a mini-disk or something?" Martha asked. "We could tape it. We can flog it. Sell it when we get home, and make a mint."

Rose had a momentary fear that they'd accidentally picked up another Adam.

The Doctor simply told her, "No."

"That would be bad?" Martha asked.

"Yeah. Yeah," he told her.

Rose relaxed as it seemed the issue was forgotten. "Well, how come it disappeared in the first place?" she asked.

"Well," answered the Doctor, then looked over at Martha, "I was just gonna give you a quick little trip in the TARDIS, but I suppose we could stay a bit longer."

--

To be continued.


	2. The Man Himself

Chapter 2, The Man Himself

"Here we go," announced the Doctor, as they walked up to an inn. "The Elephant." Without further explanation, he led Rose and Martha into the inn and to an upstairs room. He listened at the door.

"I've just got the final scene to go," a voice from inside said. "You'll get it by morning."

The Doctor moved into the doorway. "Hello!" he said, knocking on the open door and stepping briskly into the room. A maid was working in the corner, two men were seated in chairs before a desk, and behind the desk--there he was, Shakespeare! "Excuse me!" he continued, "I'm not interrupting, am I? Mr. Shakespeare, isn't it?"

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Shakespeare replied, closing his eyes and bringing his hand to his forehead. "Who let you in? No autographs. No, you can't have yourself sketched with me. And please don't ask where I get my ideas from. Thanks for the interest. Now be a good boy and shove--" he cut off, suddenly staring, and the Doctor turned to see that Rose and Martha had made themselves visible. "Hey, nonny nonny," said Shakespeare, suddenly all interest. "Sit right down here next to me." He shooed the men who had been occupying the chairs by his desk away. "You two get sewn in them costumes. Off you go."

The serving woman escorted the men out. "Come on, lads. I think our William's found his new muse."

Rose and Martha accepted the invitation, stepping forward once the men had passed.

"Midnight and Midday walk side by side before me," Shakespeare said in awe. Martha and Rose smirked at each other. "Ladies, do sit down," he said, half standing as they took the chairs, Rose to his right, and Martha to his left. "Such unusual clothes, so . . . fitted," he commented, looking them both up and down in a way that was not entirely approved of by the Doctor.

"Um, verily," replied Martha. "Forsooth, egads."

"No, no, don't do that," the Doctor told her, almost as embarrassed as when Rose had attempted a Scottish accent. "Don't."

"And who might you ladies be?" Shakespeare asked.

"I'm Rose," Rose told him.

"Rose, a beautiful name for a beautiful lady," he said, eyeing her.

"And yet," said the Doctor, grinning, "a rose by any other name would still smell as sweet."

Rose turned to him. "And I haven't heard that one before," she told the Doctor, quietly.

"So, you know my work?" Shakespeare asked the Doctor.

"Oh, definitely," the Doctor said, casually placing his left hand on Rose's shoulder (and accidentally wiggling his ring finger, which still bore the wedding ring, which, if asked, the Doctor had completely forgotten he was still wearing). To the Doctor's relief, Shakespeare quite obviously recognized the gesture for what the Doctor intended, and turned to Martha.

"And you?" Shakespeare asked her.

"Martha," she replied.

"Martha, completely enchanted."

"And, I'm the Doctor," the Doctor volunteered, stepping up between the women. "Sir Doctor of TARDIS, and companions," he said, producing the psychic paper.

"Interesting, that bit of paper," said Shakespeare, glancing at it. "It's blank."

The Doctor was astounded, and he noticed Rose's shocked expression as well. _"_Oh, that's . . . very clever," he said. "That proves it. Absolute genius."

Martha leaned over, looking at the paper in confusion. "No, it says so right there," she said. "Sir Doctor, Dame Rose, Martha Jones. It says so."

"And I say it's blank," insisted Shakespeare.

"Psychic paper," Rose told Martha.

"Long story," added the Doctor. "Oh, I hate starting from scratch," he said, pocketing the paper.

"Psychic," repeated Shakespeare. "Never heard that before, and words are my trade. Who are you exactly? More's the point," he said, turning back to Martha, "who is your delicious blackamoor lady?"

"What did you say?" Martha asked, half-laughing in her shock.

"Oops," said Shakespeare, "Isn't that a word we use nowadays? An Ethiop girl? A swarth? A Queen of Afric."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Martha said, turning to the Doctor and Rose.

"Me neither," said Rose, smiling back at Martha.

"It's political correctness gone mad," explained the Doctor, scratching the back of his neck, felling just the slightest bit guilty for leaving Martha to suffer the brunt of Shakespeare's flirtations. "Um, we're from a far-off land. Freedonia," he invented.

"Excuse me!" a man burst into the room, glaring at Shakespeare. "Hold hard a moment. This is abominable behavior!" The Doctor stepped aside before he was knocked out of the way. "A new play with no warning?" the man continued. "I demand to see a script, Mr. Shakespeare. As Master of the Revels, every new script must be registered at my office and examined by me before it can be performed."

"Tomorrow morning, first thing, I'll send it 'round," Shakespeare answered him, calmly.

"I don't work to _your_ schedule," the master of revels replied, "you work to mine. The script, now!"

"I can't," Shakespeare told him.

"Then tomorrow's performance is cancelled," he declared. The Doctor noticed the maid duck out of the room. "I'm returning to my office for a banning order," the man said, moving to the doorway. He paused, turning to Shakespeare. "If it's the last thing I do, _Love's Labours Won_ will never be played." And with that, he was gone.

"Dolly Bailey!" said Shakespeare, still looking at the doorway. "Perfect timing," Shakespeare told her. The serving woman from earlier reentered, with four fresh tankards.

"Master Lynley seemed in a right state," she told him, handing out the beverages.

"Oh, that Lynley," said Shakespeare, shaking his head. "Actors. He'll be the death of me."

She gave him a warm smile, then left them alone.

"Well, then," said Rose, taking a drink, "mystery solved. That's _Love's Labours Won_ over and done with."

Martha seemed disappointed. "Thought it might be something more, you know . . . more mysterious," she said.

A scream came from outside, and the Doctor rushed out of the room, Rose, Martha, and Shakespeare following him downstairs and out into the street.

--

The master of revels was stumbling through the street, choking, and spewing water.

"It's that Lynley bloke," said Rose.

"What's wrong with him?" the Doctor wondered aloud. "Leave it to me, I'm a doctor," he said, rushing forward to support the afflicted man.

**"**So am I--near enough," said Martha, moving beside him.

"What's goin' on?" asked Rose, as water continued to pour from Lynley's mouth.

With a last, sudden gasp, he collapsed.

The Doctor left him with Martha, running a short ways down the street. Nothing. He couldn't find anything suspicious. Just frightened passersby gathering around the fallen man. He moved back to where Martha and Rose were now kneeling next to Lynley.

"Mr Lynley, c'mon, can you hear me?" Martha asked, then moved to start CPR. "You're gonna be all right," she said, but then pulled back with a start. Water gushed from his mouth. "What the hell is that?" Martha asked.

"I've never seen a death like it," the Doctor told her, squatting down next to Rose. "His lungs are full of water. He drowned and then . . . I dunno, like a blow to the heart, an invisible blow." He stood and turned to the woman, Dolly Bailey. "Good mistress," he told her, "this poor fellow has died from a sudden imbalance of the humors. A natural, if unfortunate, demise. Call a constable and have him taken away."

"Yes, sir," she replied, weakly.

The maid came down the stairs, and gently told the woman, "I'll do it, ma'am."

The Doctor turned back to Rose and Martha.

"And why are you telling them that?" Martha asked.

"This lot still have got one foot in the Dark Ages," he explained, quietly. "If I tell them the truth, they'll panic and think it was witchcraft."

"OK, what was it then?" asked Rose.

"Witchcraft," he answered.

--

They all walked slowly back into Shakespeare's room.

"I got you a room, Sir Doctor," Dolly Bailey told them from outside the door. "Just across the landing. I'm afraid there's only the one bed, but it's all we have right now. I've left some extra blankets on the chair." She left them, heading back downstairs.

"Poor Lynley," said Shakespeare, taking one of the chairs in front of his desk. "So many strange events. Not least of all, this land of Freedonia, where a woman can be a doctor?"

"Where a woman can do what she likes," Rose told him.

"And you, Sir Doctor. How can a man so young have eyes so old?"

"I do a lot of reading," he answered.

"A trite reply," Shakespeare dismissed. "Yeah, that's what I'd do. And you," he said to Martha, "you look at him like you're surprised he exists. He's as much of a puzzle to you as he is to me."

"I think we should say good night," Martha answered, heading out into the hallway

Rose tugged gently at the Doctor's hand, indicating that they should follow. The Doctor moved with her to the doorway.

"I must work," said Shakespeare, moving behind his desk. "I have a play to complete. But I'll get my answers tomorrow, Doctor, and I'll discover more about you and why this constant performance of yours."

_"_All the world's a stage," the Doctor told him, pausing at the doorway.

"Hm, I might use that," Shakespeare told him, thoughtfully. "Good night, Doctor."

"Nighty-night, Shakespeare," he answered, letting Rose lead him to their room.

--

To be continued.


	3. In the Still of the Night

Chapter 3, In the Still of the Night

As Rose led the Doctor into their room, she found Martha poking around, holding a candle, looking in the cupboards.

"It's not exactly five-star, is it?" Martha asked them.

"Oh, it'll do," said the Doctor. "I've seen worse."

"Better than a prison cell," commented Rose. "Most prison cells, anyway," she amended.

"I haven't even got a toothbrush," realized Martha.

"Ooh," said the Doctor, patting down his jacket pockets. He pulled out a toothbrush with a flourish and handed it to Martha. "Contains Venusian spearmint," he told her.

Rose plopped down on the foot of the bed, while the Doctor shifted the blankets off the chair and took a seat.

"Are you gonna stand there all night?" the Doctor asked. Martha was still standing where she'd received the toothbrush from him.

"Alright," said Martha, sitting at the head of the bed, placing the candle and toothbrush on the bedside table.

The Doctor leaned back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "Master Lynley," he said. "Drowned on dry land--"

"But I've heard of that," said Rose, and she turned to Martha. "I've heard of 'dry-land drownin'. It's a medical condition or somethin', right?" she asked.

"Yeah, but not like that," said Martha. "You're talkin' about the airway sealin' itself off, or a bit of water sittin' in the lungs goin' unnoticed. But this . . ." she paused, shaking her head, "it was just weird. He had water litteraly gushin' out of his mouth, and then he just . . . died."

"Definitely not natural," said the Doctor, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

Rose watched him thinking for a few moments, but couldn't help but break the silence. "Tell ya what, though," she said, Martha and the Doctor looking at her. "Shakespeare!"

Martha laughed, smiling at Rose. "We've actually _met_ William Shakespeare!" she said, a hand on her head as though she couldn't believe it.

Rose elbowed her. "An' he was just a bit smitten with you, don't ya think?"

"A little corny, if you ask me," said Martha, grinning. "'Midnight and Midday walking side by side'," she said in an affected voice. "Whatever."

"Corny?" asked the Doctor, apparently astounded at their reaction. "Really?"

"Oh, like you'd see anything but your idol," Martha teased him. "Fanboy through and through. 'Excuse me, Mr. Shakespeare, could I have your autograph, Mr. Shakespeare?'"

Rose couldn't help but laugh at Martha's eager puppy impression of the Doctor.

"I--I didn't ask for his autograph," he defended, weakly.

Rose and Martha laughed even harder.

"But, magic and stuff," said Martha, once they'd caught their breath. "That's a surprise. It's a little bit _Harry Potter_."

_"Wait_ till you read Book Seven," the Doctor told her, their teasing apparently forgotten. "Oh, I cried."

"Tried to pass it off as biting into a hot pepper, but he forgot he was in the library, 'stead of the kitchen," Rose added with a smile.

"But is it real, though?" Martha asked. "I mean, witches, black magic, and all that. It's real?"

"'Course it isn't!" said the Doctor, dismissively.

"Well, how am I supposed to know?" Martha defended. "I've only just started believing in time travel. Give me a break."

"Looks like witchcraft, but it isn't," the Doctor clarified. "Can't be. There's such a thing as psychic energy, but a human couldn't channel it like that. Not without a generator the size of Taunton, and I think we'd have spotted that."

"Like a transmitter, the size of the London Eye?" asked Rose.

"Ha, ha," replied the Doctor.

"There's a story there," observed Martha.

Rose just smiled. "But," Rose asked the Doctor, "if it's not human, then what? Some psychic alien that's castin' spells?"

The Doctor sat up, straighter.

"Is that what witches are, then?" asked Martha. "I mean, could that be where stories of witches come from? Somethin' with alien super-powers?"

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck, thinking. "Spells, spells," he said, then sat back in the chair, dropping his hands to his lap. "Words," he said, quietly.

Martha suddenly yawned widely. "Oh, sorry," she said, from behind her hand.

The Doctor snapped out of whatever train of thought he'd been following. "You should get some sleep," he told Martha. "Big day of mystery-solving tomorrow." He got to his feet, and held out a hand for Rose.

"What about you two?" Martha asked.

"He hardly ever sleeps," said Rose, "an' I'm probably about twelve hours off from you right now. Go ahead," she told her, standing up from the bed.

"Want to get some air?" the Doctor asked Rose, picking up a spare blanket from the pile on the floor.

"Sure," Rose answered, and followed him to the door.

"We'll be just outside," the Doctor told Martha. "'Night."

"G'Night," Martha answered, blowing out the bedside candle as they walked out into the corridor.

--

The Doctor spread the blanket out on the landing, just at the head of the stairs, and sat down. Rose sat to his left, looking out at the moonlit city before them. The Globe was just visible through the buildings to their right.

The Doctor took her hand, but didn't say anything. Rose could tell he was lost in thought, balancing his chin in the palm of his right hand. Rose looked down at their joined hands, and tried to suppress her smile at the sight of the ring still on his finger. She wondered, surreptitiously fingering her own ring, had he forgotten about it? Or, was he actually playing the same game she was, seeing how long they could go before they were called on it? It gave her a little thrill to think that he might be.

Looking down at the empty street below, Rose saw the place where Lynley had met his strange end. First, Shakespeare had announced the performance of his lost play, then Lynley had tried to put a stop to it, then Lynley had . . . been eliminated? Could that be what this was all about? Someone wanting to see the mysterious _Love's Labours Won_ performed?

A shrill scream suddenly split the night, and Rose was up and running after the Doctor before she'd had time to blink. Martha threw open the door to their room as they ran past, and followed after them. The Doctor stopped short at Shakespeare's open door, and Rose saw Dolly Bailey lying just inside the room. They stepped in carefully, the Doctor and Martha stooping to examine her.

Shakespeare, who'd apparently fallen asleep at his desk, woke with a start. "Wha'? What was that?" he asked.

Rose looked past him, seeing something through the open window. She ran over to the window, and could hardly believe her eyes. Flying off into the night, was a witch on a broomstick.

"Her heart gave out," she heard the Doctor say from the doorway. "She died of fright."

"Doctor?" Rose called.

He joined her at the window in a flash. "What did you see?" he asked, looking out at the now empty sky.

"A witch," she told him.

--

To be continued.


	4. Words & Numbers

Chapter 4, Words & Numbers

The Doctor turned in place, down in the pit of the Globe, taking in the shape of the theater around him. The others stood on the stage, watching. "The columns there, right . . . fourteen sides," he said half to himself. "I've always wondered but I never asked. Tell me, Will, why fourteen sides?"

"It was the shape Peter Streete thought best, that's all," answered Shakespeare. "Said it carried the sound well."

"Why does that ring a bell?" the Doctor continued. "Fourteen . . . ."

Rose spoke up, "There's fourteen lines in a sonnet."

"So there is. Good point," said the Doctor. "Words and shapes following the same design," he said, as he began to pace. "Fourteen lines, fourteen sides, fourteen facets." He pulled on his hair, trying to think through the mystery. "Oh, my head," he muttered. "Tetradecagon . . . think, think, think! Words, letters, numbers, lines!" he recited.

"This is just a theater," objected Shakespeare.

**"**Oh, but a theater's magic, isn't it?" the Doctor asked him. "You should know. Stand on this stage," he placed his hands almost reverently upon it, "say the right words, with the right emphasis, at the right time . . . oh, you can make men weep, or cry with joy, change them. You can change people's minds just with words in this place. And if you exaggerate that--"

"It's like you're police box," suggested Martha. "Small wooden box with all that _power_ inside."

"Oh. Oh, Martha Jones, I like you," the Doctor told her with a smile. "Tell you what, though. Peter Streete would know. Can I talk to him?" he asked Shakespeare.

"You won't get an answer," he replied. "A month after finishing this place . . . lost his mind."

"Why?" asked Rose. "What happened?"

"Started raving about witches," Shakespeare said, "hearing voices, babbling. His mind was addled."

"Where is he now?" asked the Doctor.

"Bedlam," said Shakespeare.

"What's Bedlam?" asked Martha.

"Bethlem Hospital," Shakespeare told her. "The madhouse."

"We're gonna go there," said the Doctor, hopping up on the stage and leading the way towards the exit. "Right now. Come on." He took Rose's hand as they passed two of the acting company coming in.

"Wait! I'm coming with you," said Shakespeare, following after Martha. "I want to witness this at first hand!"

The Doctor glanced back in time to see Shakespeare stop to hand over the completed play to the actors, so he slowed their pace for him to catch them up.

_--_

Rose was walking with the Doctor, following Shakespeare's directions to Bedlam. Shakespeare, meanwhile, was following behind, chatting up Martha.

"So, tell me of Freedonia," he asked, "where women can be doctors, writers, actors."

"This country's ruled by a woman," Martha observed. Well done, thought Rose.

"Ah, she's royal," dismissed Shakespeare. "That's God's business. Though," he added, "you are a royal beauty."

Rose bit her lip. Martha was right. He really could be a bit cheesy.

_"_Whoa, Nelly!" said Martha, and Rose looked back to see her come to a full halt. "I know for a fact you've got a wife in the country."

"But Martha, this is Town," was his ever so suave reply.

"Doctor," Rose said quietly, with a tug at his arm.

He turned to the two behind them. "Come on," he urged. "We can all have a good flirt later.

"Is that a promise, Doctor?" Shakespeare asked him, with a gleam in his eye.

Rose couldn't help herself. "Shades of Captain Jack, huh?"

"Oh, 57 academics just punched the air," replied the Doctor with a shake of his head. "Now move!" he said, striding off again.

--

Rose shuddered. Bedlam, or Bethlem, or whatever they called it was disgusting. More than the filth, it was the way that the "patients" were treated. It was really just a jail, Rose thought. Martha said as much, in a scathing tone to Shakespeare.

"So this is what you call a hospital, yeah? Where the patients are whipped to entertain the gentry? And you put your friend in here?"

"Oh, and it's all so different in Freedonia," he replied.

"But you're clever!" Rose joined in. "Do you honestly think this place is any good?"

"I've been mad," Shakespeare told them. "I've lost my mind. Fear of this place set me right again. It serves its purpose."

"Mad in what way?" Rose asked him.

The Doctor spoke up. "You lost your son," he said to Shakespeare.

Rose tightened her grip on the Doctor's hand.

"My only boy," Shakespeare confirmed. "The Black Death took him. I wasn't even there."

"I didn't know," said Martha. "I'm sorry."

"It made me question everything," Shakespeare went on. "The futility of this fleeting existence. To be or not to be . . . Oh," he paused, considering, "that's quite good."

"You should write that down," the Doctor told him.

"Hm, maybe not. A bit pretentious?" Shakespeare asked.

The Doctor gave a shrug, just as the jailer, as Rose had dubbed him, called them deeper into the madhouse.

--

Peter Streete was a shriveled, huddled, pitiable human being, lying in his cell. Rose waited with Martha and Shakespeare by the door, while the Doctor approached him, carefully.

"He's the same as he was," Shakespeare said, as the Doctor moved to put his hand on Peter's shoulder. "You'll get nothing out of him."

"Peter?" asked the Doctor, and the man's head jerked up in answer. The Doctor placed his fingertips along Peter's face, and spoke quietly, yet commandingly, to him. "Peter, I'm the Doctor," he said. "Go into the past, one year ago. Let your mind go back, back to when everything was fine and shining. Everything that happened in this year since happened to somebody else. It was just a story. A winter's tale. Let go. Listen. That's it, just let go." he helped a now relaxed Peter to lie back on his cot. Then he stood up, and watched him. "Tell me the story, Peter," he prompted. "Tell me about the witches."

"Witches spoke to Peter," he answered, clearly, if still obviously frightened. "In the night, they whispered. Got Peter to build the Globe to their design. _Their_ design!" he exclaimed. "The fourteen walls--always fourteen. When the work was done," he laughed emptily, "they sapped poor Peter's wits."

"Where did Peter see the witches?" asked the Doctor. "Where in the city?" When he hesitated to answer, the Doctor crouched at his side. "Peter, tell me. You've got to tell me, where were they?"

"All Hallows Street," Peter answered.

Suddenly, an actual witch appeared in the cell by Peter's bed.

"Doctor!" exclaimed Rose.

"Too many words," the witch said, as the Doctor sprang to his feet, and stood back from the newcomer. She moved to lay her hand over Peter's chest. "Just one touch of the heart," she said.

"No!" yelled the Doctor, moving to try and intervene.

But he was too late. In an instant, the witch had touched his chest, and Peter had breathed his last.

"Witch!" exclaimed Shakespeare. "I'm seeing a witch!"

"Who would be next, hmm?" she asked, moving slowly towards the group with her hand outstretched. "Just one touch," she taunted. "Oh, oh, I'll stop your frantic hearts. Poor, fragile mortals."

Martha started banging on the cell door. "Let us out! Let us out!" she cried for the jailer.

"That's not gonna work," the Doctor told her over his shoulder. "The whole building's shouting that."

"Who will die first, hmm?" the witch asked, moving closer still.

"Well, if you're looking for volunteers," the Doctor said, stepping forward.

"No! Don't!" said Rose, trying to reach his hand and pull him back.

"Doctor," Shakespeare asked, "can you stop her?"

"No mortal has power over me," gloated the witch.

"Oh, but there's a power in words," said the Doctor. "If I can find the right one, if I can just know you--"

"None on earth has knowledge of us," she boasted.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here," the Doctor replied, calmly. "Now think, think, think," he said to himself, looking the witch up and down. "Humanoid female, uses shapes and words to channel energy . . . ah, fourteen! That's it! Fourteen! The fourteen stars of the Rexel planetary configuration! Creature, I name you Carrionite!" he declared.

With a piercing wail, the witch vanished.

Rose looked at the space where she had just stood. "What did you do?" she asked the Doctor.

"I Named her," he answered. "The power of a name. That's _old_ magic."

"But there's no such thing as magic," Martha insisted.

"Well, it's just a different sort of science," he said. "You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."

"Use them for what?" Shakespeare asked.

"The end of the world," was the Doctor's reply.

--

To be continued.


	5. The Play's the Thing

What can I say, the series 4 finale is very distracting. Sorry for the delay, but here's the next chapter :)

--

Chapter 5, The Play's the Thing

A somber mood followed them on the journey back from Bedlam. Rose certainly didn't feel like discussing what they'd all witnessed, not out in the streets of London. It wasn't until they were once again in Shakespeare's rooms at the Elephant that she felt herself begin to relax.

The Doctor was trying to answer the group's questions. "The Carrionites disappeared way back at the dawn of the universe," he explained. "Nobody was sure if they were real or legend."

"Well, I'm going for real," said Shakespeare.

"But what do they want?" asked Rose.

"A new empire on earth," the Doctor answered, half to himself. "A world of bones, and blood, and witchcraft."

"But how?" Martha asked.

The Doctor fixed his gaze on Shakespeare. "I'm looking at the man with the words."

"Me? But I've done nothing," Shakespeare defended.

"Everythin' that's happened, though," said Rose, voicing her earlier suspicions, "it's like it's all to get _Love's Labours Won_ performed."

"Exactly--" said Martha. "Hold on, what were you doin' last night, when that Carrionite was in the room?" she asked him.

"Finishing the play," said Shakespeare.

The Doctor perked up. "What happens on the last page?" he asked.

"The boys get the girls. They have a bit of a dance," Shakespeare answered. "It's all as funny and thought provoking as usual--" he paused, considering, "except those last few lines," he added. "Funny thing is . . . I don't actually remember writing them."

"That's it," said the Doctor. "They used you. They gave you the final words. Like a spell, like a code. _Love's Labours Won--_it's a weapon! The right combination of words, spoken at the right place, with the shape of the Globe as an energy converter! The play's the thing!" he announced. "And yes, you can have that," he added to Shakespeare.

"So, all we have to do is cancel the performance," Shakespeare surmised.

"But that still leaves the Carrionites," said Rose. "Won't they just try again?"

"We've got to get to All Hallows Street, and find out what they're really after," said the Doctor. "Do you know where that is?" he asked Shakespeare.

"Hold on, there's a map around here, somewhere," Shakespeare said, checking the tables around the room. At last, he pulled a rolled-up paper from behind a statue in the corner.

The Doctor took it, and spread it out on the table. "All Hallows Street. There it is," he said, pointing at the street on the map. "Rose, Martha, and I will track them down. Will, you get to the Globe. Whatever you do, stop that play!"

"I'll do it," said Shakespeare, reaching out and shaking the Doctor's hand. "All these years I've been the cleverest man around," he said to him. "Next to you, I know nothing."

**"**Oh, don't complain," said Martha.

"I'm not," laughed Shakespeare. "It's marvelous. Good luck, Doctor."

"Good luck, Shakespeare," the Doctor replied, leading Rose and Martha to the door. "Once more unto the breach!" he declared.

"I like that," said Shakespeare. Then, "Wait a minute . . . that's one of mine."

The Doctor stopped, just long enough to poke his head back through the doorway. "Oh, just shift!" he told Shakespeare, then forged ahead.

--

"All Hallows Street," the Doctor said, looking around at the buildings lining the street in question, "but which house?"

Rose couldn't find anything particularly unusual about any of the houses in view.

Martha spoke up. "The thing is, though . . . am I missing something here? The world didn't end in 1599. It just didn't. Look at me--I'm living proof."

"I thought the same thing, back when we met Charles Dickens," Rose told her. "There were these gas creatures, called the Gelth, tryin' to take over the world in 1869. But, the Doctor explained that time's in flux . . ." she trailed off, looking to the Doctor to explain.

"Flux?" asked Martha.

"Oh, how to explain the mechanics of the infinite temporal flux?" the Doctor muttered to himself. "I know!" he shouted. "_Back to the Future_! It's like _Back to the Future_!"

"The film?" asked Martha.

"No, the novelization," he replied sarcastically. "Yes, the film. Marty McFly goes back and changes history."

"And he starts fading away," Martha recounted, then seemed to realize what she'd said. "Oh my God, am I gonna fade?"

"You, Rose, and the entire future of the human race," the Doctor answered. "It ends right now in 1599 if we don't stop it. But which house?" he asked again, looking up and down the street.

A door in the house ahead of them slowly opened on its own.

"Ah, make that _witch_ house," the Doctor corrected himself.

Rose groaned, but allowed him to lead her by the hand into the building, Martha following close behind.

--

"I take it we're expected," said the Doctor, entering a room where the maid from the Elephant was standing. Of course, it was clear to Rose now that she wasn't just a maid.

"Oh, I think Death has been waiting for you a very long time," the woman replied.

"Right then," said Martha, stepping forward, "it's my turn. I know how to do this." She pointed at the woman and declared, "I name thee, Carrionite!"

The woman shuddered, but then smiled, unaffected.

"What did I do wrong?" asked Martha, turning to the Doctor and Rose. "Was it the finger?"

"The power of a name works only once," the woman explained. "Observe," she said, pointing at Martha. "I gaze upon this bag of bones, and now I name thee 'Martha Jones'."

"Martha!" shouted Rose as Martha collapsed, the Doctor just catching her in time to lower her to the floor.

"What have you done?" demanded the Doctor, checking her vital signs.

The woman looked at Martha rather indifferently. "Only sleeping, alas," she said. "Curious, the name has less impact. She's somehow out of her time." She turned to the Doctor. "And as for you, Sir Doctor!" she pointed at him, but paused. "Fascinating," she said. "There is no name. Why would a man hide his title in such despair?"

"The naming won't work on me." he said simply, standing and taking Rose's hand.

"But the wolf howls," the woman said, shifting to point at Rose, "the north wind blows--"

"No, no, stop!" ordered the Doctor, pulling Rose behind him.

"And steals away the Doctor's 'Rose'," she proclaimed, and at once, Rose fell unconscious.

_--_

Rose came to, the Doctor's face swimming into view above her. "What happened?" she asked, then saw Martha next to her, conscious as well. "Martha, you're alright? Where's the Carrionite?"

The Doctor was grinning at her. "Oh, flew away again," he said, then reached out to help her to her feet. "I'll explain on the way," he said, moving to the door. When Rose's feet didn't move to follow, he came back to her and led her by the hand. "Well, what are you standing there for? Come on, the Globe!" he said, rushing out of the room and out, into the street.

After a bit of running and turning corners, Rose asked the Doctor, "So what happened? Did you find out what they want?"

"We're goin' the wrong way!" Martha announced from behind them.

_"_No we're not," the Doctor said confidently over his shoulder. "Turns out," he then told Rose, "Shakespeare somehow let three of the Carrionites cross into this world, back when he was mad and raving with grief over his son. Those three are trying to bring the rest of their sisters through, by means of the play . . . and we're going the wrong way!" he added, skidding to a halt at the next intersection they reached.

Rose shared a smile with Martha as the Doctor turned and backtracked the last couple of streets they'd taken.

As the Globe came into view, Rose could hear screams and see a red sort of glow pouring from the theater.

"I told thee so!" shouted a voice, and Rose recognized the preacher they'd passed when they'd first arrived. "I told thee!"

"Stage door!" the Doctor decided, then led the way around to the back of the theater.

As they ran, thunderclouds formed over the Globe, lightnings mixing with the ominous red glow.

--

To be continued.


	6. Wordsmith

Chapter 6, Wordsmith

The Doctor led Rose and Martha in through the stage door, only to find Shakespeare sitting groggily backstage, nursing a sore head. "Stop the play! I think that was it," he yelled at him, feeling no pity in the least as he winced. "Yeah, I said, 'Stop the play'!"

"I hit my head," Shakespeare answered weakly.

"Yeah, don't rub it, you'll go bald," the Doctor answered. More screams suddenly erupted from the main theater. "I think that's my cue!" he announced, running out onto the stage.

The space above the theater was filled witfh swirling, screeching, vulture-like Carrionites, flying over the heads of the panicking theater-goers. They all seemed to be emanating from--ah ha. The Doctor could just make out the three human form Carrionites in a private booth.

He turned to see Rose and Martha helping Shakespeare out onto the stage. He ran over to him, grabbing him by the elbow. "Come on, Will!" he told him, dragging him to the center of the stage. "History needs you!"

"But what can I do?" Shakespeare asked.

"Reverse it!" the Doctor told him.

"How am I supposed to do that?" asked Shakespeare.

"The shape of the Globe gives words power," the Doctor explained, "but you're the wordsmith, the one, true genius, the only man clever enough to do it!"

"But what words? I have none ready!" he asked, exasperated.

"You're William Shakespeare!" exclaimed the Doctor.

"But these Carrionite phrases, they need such precision!" Shakespeare argued.

"They used you, right?" Rose asked him. "They needed your creativity to put it together."

"Trust yourself," the Doctor told him. "When you're locked away in your room, the words just come, don't they? Like magic. Words of the right sound, the right shape, the right rhythm--words that last forever! That's what you do, Will! You choose perfect words. Do it. Improvise!"

The Doctor watched as Shakespeare composed himself, and stood, facing the Carrionites. "Close up this den of hateful, dire decay!" he declared. "Decomposition of your witches' plot! You thieve my brains, consider me your toy. My doting Doctor tells me I am not!"

Doting? thought the Doctor. Oh, no. Martha was right, he was a fanboy.

"Foul Carrionite specters, cease your show!" Shakespeare continued. "Between the points--" he glanced at the Doctor.

Points, points, ah! "7-6-1-3-9-0!" he supplied.

"7-6-1-3-9-0!" Shakespeare shouted. "And banished like a tinker's cuss, I say to thee--" he looked back again, but the Doctor was at a loss.

"Expelliarmus!" yelled Martha.

"Expelliarmus!" echoed the Doctor with a smile.

"Expelliarmus!" concluded Shakespeare, the swirling mass of Carrionites retreating before them.

"Good old J. K.!" the Doctor laughed.

"What the heck is 'expelliarmus'?" asked Rose, from beside him.

"Why, Rose Tyler, I'm ashamed!" he answered. "You're not honestly telling me--" but he cut off as pages and pages of paper flew out from backstage, being sucked into the vortex that was consuming the Carrionites. "_Love's Labours Won," _the Doctor realized. "There it goes."

In an instant, the Carrionites had vanished, silence settling over the theater. Slowly, the audience began to applaud, thinking the whole thing had been special effects. The Doctor led Rose off stage as the actors came back out to take their bows. "Come on," he told her, glancing back to see Shakespeare and Martha bowing as well.

They climbed up to the box where he'd seen the Carrionites sitting, and found just what he'd expected.

"They're trapped in there?" Rose asked.

"For all eternity," the Doctor said, picking up the crystal sphere in which the Carrionites were still screaming, and slipping it into his pocket.

--

The theater was finally empty, except for the stagehands who were trying to restore some order to the chaotic mess that had once been the Globe. Rose followed the Doctor back to the stage, meeting up with Martha and Shakespeare.

Shakespeare finally called out to the stagehands, "Just leave it. We'll sort it all out in the morning. Get some sleep."

"Sounds like a good idea," yawned Rose at the Doctor's side.

She realized she'd been up for over thirty-six hours. Martha looked beat as well, having hardly gotten any sleep last night. The Doctor seemed to have noticed, too. As they followed Shakespeare out into the street, the Doctor quietly suggested, "Why don't we head back to the TARDIS? We can come back in the morning, but you look like you could use something more comfortable than the beds at the inn."

"Oh, good," Rose answered, clinging to his arm, and resting her head on his shoulder as they walked. "You've got a spare room for Martha, too, right?" she asked.

"Absolutely. How 'bout it, Martha?" he asked more loudly, seeing Martha turn from her place beside Shakespeare. "Do you want to go back to the Elephant, or sleep on the, uh, back where we came from?"

"Are the beds more comfortable?" she asked.

"Sure are," Rose told her.

"I'm with you, then," Martha answered.

They parted from Shakespeare then, promising to meet back up at the Globe in the morning.

--

"I can't believe it!" Martha exclaimed. Rose smiled, loving the opportunity to show off the TARDIS like this. "I thought the first room was incredible, but . . . how far does it go?"

"I dunno," Rose answered, "I doubt even the Doctor does. She just seems to have rooms and rooms, corridors goin' on for however far they need to." She opened the door to the room the TARDIS had picked out for Martha. "You should be alright in here," she said, ushering her inside.

Martha looked around, and promptly sat on the bed. "Much better," she laughed.

"There's your own bathroom through here," said Rose from a connecting doorway, once she'd verified the small room's contents. "Oh, an' you've gotta see the laundry," she told her, gesturing for Martha to come and have a look.

Martha walked into the bathroom, and Rose opened what looked like an oven door in the wall.

"Got the Doctor to install this, finally," Rose told her. "The old washin' machine broke, and he finally got tired of havin' to stop at laundromats," she said with a smile. "Ya just throw your stuff in here, and it's cleaned and dried by the time you're outta the shower."

"No way," said Martha, grinning. "And it's just this button? No crazy alien technical stuff?"

"Just press 'START'," said Rose. She walked out through the room, into the corridor. "Just shout if ya need anythin'," Rose said. "Looks like the TARDIS moved me just down the hall," she added, seeing the door to her own room two doors down.

"Crazy," said Martha, shaking her head. "Brilliant, but crazy."

"See ya in the mornin'," said Rose.

"G'night, and thanks," Martha told her, turning back to her room.

Rose turned to head to her own room, when the Doctor's footsteps sounded from behind her. Suddenly, her elbow taken in hand, she was steered in the opposite direction, towards the library. "Yes?" she asked, as the Doctor hadn't deigned to say a word.

"How could you not know 'expelliarmus'?" was his only comment, as he pulled her into the library, and deposited her on a sofa.

"What's it from?" she asked, leaning back in the soft cushions, quite willing to fall asleep right here if he wasn't going to let her go back to her room.

"_Harry Potter_," he answered. Rose cracked an eye open when she felt him join her on the sofa, and saw the top of a stack of books on his far side.

"Never read it," she said, closing her eyes again.

"That much is painfully obvious," he said. "That's why I'm going to read it to you."

"Oh, good," she said, shifting on the sofa, bringing her legs up to rest across the Doctor's lap. "That means I don't have to open my eyes."

"But you do have to pay attention," he told her in a warning tone. "As Martha demonstrated tonight, this stuff could potentially save worlds."

"Mm-hm," she agreed.

"So," he began, clearing his throat. He paused, and she peeked long enough to see him adjusting his glasses. Smiling to herself, she cuddled deeper into the corner of the sofa. She heard him clear his throat, then, "_Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_, by J. K. Rowling. Chapter one, 'The Boy Who . . . .'"

--

Rose awoke, surprisingly refreshed and comfortable for having fallen asleep on the sofa. She opened her eyes, and realized she was not on the couch, but tucked into her own bed, the stack of _Harry Potter_ books piled on her nightstand.

--

To be continued.


	7. Time's Fool

This chapter's a bit longer, for those of you who complained about the shorter chapters before. Of course, it's also the last for this episode :) Enjoy!

Oh, and there are tiny spoilers for "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" towards the end. Just so you know. Had to do the requisite David Tennant reference; sorry ;)

--

Chapter 7, Time's Fool

"It's kinda weird," Rose told the Doctor as they made their way back to the Globe after breakfast. "We hardly ever stay in the same place like this. Three days in a row--that's almost a record."

"You're really just constantly on the move?" asked Martha from the Doctor's other side.

"More fun that way," the Doctor answered. "And as for this particular delay," he added, "I'd rather like to make sure there aren't any stray copies of the play lying about before we go." He opened the stage door, gesturing for Rose and Martha to enter the theater ahead of him.

Rose saw that Shakespeare was already there, sitting on the stage while the stagehands and even the actors put the finishing touches on the cleanup. No one would be getting a paycheck until it was ready for the next production, she supposed.

"Morning, Will," the Doctor said cheerily, as the group approached Shakespeare.

"Doctor, ladies," he greeted in reply, climbing to his feet.

"How's the cleanup goin'?" Martha asked.

"Nearly done," Shakespeare said.

At that moment, the leader of the stage crew approached to report that they were in fact done. Shakespeare dismissed him, promising a bonus after the next performance.

"No more copies of _Love's Labours Won_ floating around, by any chance?" the Doctor asked.

Shakespeare shook his head. "I asked the troupe first thing; they said they all vanished."

"Still," the Doctor said, "mind if we have a look around backstage?"

"It's all yours, Doctor," Shakespeare told him. Rose followed the Doctor, but Shakespeare took Martha's hand. "Surely, you don't all have to go," he said. "Sit with me for a while?"

Martha looked back at them, and Rose gave her a smirk. "Aright," Martha said, moving with him to the edge of the stage.

"Oh!" said the Doctor. "Don't want to lose this in my pocket," he said, pulling out the Carrionite's crystal and handing it to Martha. "Hang onto that, will you?" he asked, then led Rose backstage.

--

The Doctor searched the dressing rooms while Rose went to work in the props store. He found a few scripts from _Love's Labours Lost_, but nothing from last night's performance. Joining Rose next door, he asked, "Find anything?"

"Nothin' yet," she said. "Although," she reached back behind a standing rack of cloaks and withdrew a large skull, "remind you of anyone?" she asked.

"Oh," he said with a smile, "the Sycorax!" He took the skull from her and examined it more closely.

"Good, I'm not the only one," she said with an answering grin before turning back to sort through more props.

The Doctor set the skull aside, and began to search as well. He pulled a ruff from a shelf and fastened it around his neck. "What do you think?" he asked Rose. "I look more like Shakespeare than Shakespeare!"

She just shook her head at him, but he could tell she was smiling.

They eventually completed their search, and walked out to rejoin Martha and Shakespeare--who seemed to be getting quite cozy, sitting at the edge of the stage together. "Good props store back there!" the Doctor announced, watching the two back a bit further apart. "I'm not sure about this, though," he said, acting oblivious and holding up the skull Rose had found. "Reminds us of a Sycorax."

"Sycorax," repeated Shakespeare. "Nice word. I'll have that off you as well."

"I should be on ten percent," said the Doctor. "How's your head?" he asked Shakespeare.

"Still aching," he answered.

The Doctor reached up, undoing the ruff he was still wearing. "Here, I got you this," he said, fastening it around Shakespeare's neck, and noticing Martha and Rose grinning. "Neck brace," he told him. "Wear that for a few days 'til it's better; although you might wanna keep it. It suits you."

"What about the play?" asked Martha.

"Gone," said Rose. "We looked all over."

"Every single copy of _Love's Labours Won_ went up in the sky," added the Doctor.

"My lost masterpiece," bemoaned Shakespeare.

"You could write it up again," offered Martha.

"Yeah, better not, Will," countered the Doctor. "There's still power in those words. Maybe it should best stay forgotten.

"Oh, but I've got new ideas," said Shakespeare. "Perhaps it's time I wrote about fathers and sons. In memory of my boy, my precious Hamnet."

"Hamnet?" asked Rose.

"That's him," answered Shakespeare.

"Ham_net_?" asked Martha.

"What's wrong with that?" he asked, turning back to her.

"Anyway, time we were off," interrupted the Doctor. He reached down to pick up the crystal ball Martha had set beside her on the stage. "I've got a nice attic in the TARDIS where this lot can scream for all eternity," he said, indicating the crystal. "And we've gotta take Martha back to Freedonia."

"You mean travel on through time and space," Shakespeare corrected.

"You what?" the Doctor asked, innocently.

"You're from another world like the Carrionites," Shakespeare told him, bluntly, "and Rose and Martha are from the future. It's not hard to work out."

"That's . . . incredible. You are incredible," the Doctor told him in awe.

"We're alike in many ways, Doctor," Shakespeare answered him with a smile. "Could I have a word, before you go?" he asked. He looked between Rose and Martha.

The Doctor nodded, and walked with him just out of earshot of the girls, who were now seated and examining the skull.

"Your Rose," Shakespeare said to him. "She's not really your wife."

"No, whatever made you think we were married?" the Doctor asked.

He looked at the Doctor's left hand.

The Doctor looked at his own hand, discovering the wedding ring he'd worn as Mr. Smith when they'd checked into the hospital. "Oh, that, just a bit of a joke, really. Forgot to take it off," he said, but slipped his hands into his pockets without removing the ring.

"And you haven't told her," Shakespeare pressed.

"Told who what?" The Doctor asked, but then sighed, giving up on hiding anything from the man. "I've wanted to," he said. "But she's sort of stuck with me now, and I don't want to pressure her. Besides, I'm not even sure she feels the same."

"I can tell you she does, without a doubt," Shakespeare told him, standing next to him so that they could both observe her. "I don't know how you could miss her smile. But more than that, it's in the eyes."

The Doctor just watched her for a moment.

"But you think you're too different?" Shakespeare asked. "Being from different worlds and times?"

"There's a bit more to it than traveling in time and being from different worlds," the Doctor said. "Time doesn't exactly have that much of an effect on me. But it will on her."

"Mm-hm." Shakespeare nodded, considering. "Love's not Time's fool," he recited, "though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come--"

"Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks," the Doctor continued for him (he knew the 116th Sonnet by heart, like the rest of Shakespeare's works), but hearing it in a new light, "but bears it out even to the edge of doom. And beyond."

"And beyond?" Shakespeare asked. "That's not how it goes."

"No, but that's how it's happened," said the Doctor, with a smile. "Thanks." He shook Shakespeare's hand, determined to stop procrastinating--eventually--and tell Rose how he really felt--somehow.

They walked back over to the girls. The Doctor helped Rose to her feet, but Shakespeare resumed his seat next to Martha. "Martha," he told her, taking her hand, "let me say goodbye to you in a new verse. A sonnet for my Dark Lady." The Doctor raised his eyebrows. He knew Shakespeare was taken with her, but could Martha be _the_ Dark Lady of the Sonnets? Shakespeare paused a moment, then began, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?" The Doctor looked at Rose, and they could hardly contain their amusement at the familiar words, penned just for their new friend. "Thou art more lovely and more temperate--"

"Will! Will!" A voice interrupted from the doors to the theater. A couple of the actors had returned. "You'll never believe it!" one of them exclaimed. "She's here! She's turned up!"

"We're the talk of the town," the other said. "She heard about last night! She wants us to perform it again."

"Who?" asked Martha.

"Her Majesty," the second actor explained, as if stating the obvious. "She's here!"

The Doctor watched with glee as the Queen entered the theater. "Queen Elizabeth the First!" he exclaimed. Oh, what a bonus.

"Doctor!" the Queen said, seeing him.

"What?" he asked. They hadn't met yet, had they?

"My sworn enemy!" she exclaimed.

"Uh-oh," said Rose, quietly.

"What?" he asked again, feeling Rose's hand slip into his.

"Off with his head!" the Queen ordered.

"What?" Rose was tugging on his hand now, and Martha was on her feet as well.

"Never mind 'what'," yelled Martha, just run!"

"C'mon!" Rose shouted, as she led him out through the back of the theater.

Martha yelled a hasty goodbye to Shakespeare. "See you, Will! And thanks!"

The Doctor snapped out of his stupor, and led the way back to the TARDIS.

"Stop in the name of the Queen!" a soldier shouted from behind them.

"What have you done to upset her?!" Martha gasped out as they ran.

"How should I know?" the Doctor asked. "Haven't even met her yet."

"That's time travel for you!" said Rose, "things don't always happen to you in order."

"Still, can't wait to find out," the Doctor said with a grin at Rose as they reached the TARDIS. He unlocked the door and let the girls in ahead of him. "That's something to look forward to," he said, looking back as a soldier came into view, arrow already nocked. "Oh!" he exclaimed, ducking inside and closing the door, just in time to hear an arrow lodge in the door behind him. He jogged up to the console and quickly put the TARDIS into the vortex.

--

Rather than head off to "Freedonia", the Doctor said he'd like to do a bit of maintenance on the TARDIS first. Rose and Martha said they'd be more than able to amuse themselves for a couple of hours, so he set to work in the console room while they disappeared into the depths of the ship.

After about eight hours--so he'd underestimated, or gotten lost in his work--he heard repeated laughter coming from somewhere within the TARDIS. Rolling down his shirtsleeves and retrieving his jacket, the Doctor moved off in search of the source of the commotion.

He found Rose and Martha in the lounge, surrounded by buckets of popcorn and other snacks, laughing their heads off while they watched a movie. If he knew anything about _Harry Potter_, and he did, it was the end of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire", and Barty Crouch, Jr. had just run out of polyjuice potion and reverted to his true form.

"He really does!" squealed Martha, laughing with Rose. "I can't believe it!"

"And he just can't keep his tongue in his mouth!" laughed Rose, as the actor on screen flicked his tongue a couple of times at his captors. What was so funny about that? wondered the Doctor. It's not exactly a cheery ending to the movie, if they'd been paying attention. But Rose continued, "he's always licking things, this him," she said. "Since he first regenerated."

Regenerated? That's not regeneration, thought the Doctor. Polyjuice just produces a temporary transformation. Rose of all people knew what regeneration was like.

"I mean," Rose went on, "one of the first things I saw him do was _taste_ a fingerful of blood." Martha made a face. "And it hasn't stopped since. I once caught him trying to taste my hand lotion."

Oh, thought the Doctor. She was apparently talking about _him_. But then, why the laughter at the movie?

"But is that him?" Martha asked. "I mean the hair's a bit different, and he hasn't got the sideburns, but did he, I dunno, sneak in and audition or somethin'?"

"What?" the Doctor finally asked aloud, Rose and Martha turning towards him, startled.

"How long've you been standin' there?" asked Rose in an accusing tone.

"What are you talking about?" he countered. "What's this 'auditioning'? And why are you watching these movies," he asked, noticing the stack of eight DVDs on the table in front of them, "when I know you, Rose Tyler, have never read the books?"

"Martha's read 'em," Rose answered, ignoring the auditioning question for the moment, "but she's never seen the movies. And I figured anythin' really world-savingly important'd be in them, so . . . ."

The Doctor just shook his head.

"But is that you?" asked Martha.

"Who?" asked the Doctor.

"Moody--Barty--whatever," said Rose, pointing at the screen. "Martha thinks you snuck into the auditions."

"What?" asked the Doctor, glancing up at the screen, watching the snarling Death Eater held at bay by Snape's wand. "You think that looks like me?" he asked incredulously. He turned his head this way and that, seeing if the different angles lent any different perspective. "I don't see it," he said at last.

The girls just giggled at him. They actually giggled!

--

The end.

New New York is coming soon :)


End file.
